A Good Night's Rest
by The Dark Strategist
Summary: If anyone asked Dylas who he considered his friends to be, he was certain only three names would come to mind.


Dylas settled tiredly into a seat at one of the restaurant's tables. The restaurant had been more busy than usual lately. He'd been running himself ragged the last few days and it was finally starting to bog him down.

He laid his head on the table, too tired to even climb the stairs to his room. Maybe he'd sleep down here for tonight…

A soft, lulling sound suddenly traveled through the air. Dylas's ears perked up at the sound. He raised his head, searching for the source.

His eyes finally landed on Margaret, who was quietly singing to herself while she strummed her harp. He had somehow managed to forget she was still here. He laid his head back down, keeping his eyes firmly locked on the elf.

Dylas had arrived in Selphia a few months ago and it had taken him a while to become comfortable in this big, bustling town. Despite how long he'd been here, he hadn't made many friends. This was mostly his fault, he knew. It wasn't as if people weren't trying to get close to him. Frey talked to him every day in effort to get him to open up. While he appreciated it, he felt that she was a little forceful about it, which made him uncomfortable.

If anyone asked him who he considered his friends, Dylas was certain only three names would come to mind: Porcoline, Arthur, and Margaret. Porcoline was a very caring, if eccentric man, and acted like a father to him, Arthur, and Margaret. Dylas felt that he and Arthur got along alright. Arthur didn't seem to mind Dylas's rough way of talking and would usually strike up a conversation with him during his lunch break. They didn't talk about much, usually about Porcoline, work, or the weather but he enjoyed their brief conversations. The prince also helped Dylas as much as he could, usually in small ways, such as leaving larger than necessary tips when he ate at Porcoline's.

Lastly, there was Margaret. She wanted to get to know Dylas and get him to open up to the other villagers, too. Unlike Frey, however, she wasn't forceful about it. If she sensed Dylas didn't want to talk, she didn't bother him. Also, she didn't tiptoe around Dylas like he was a ticking time bomb like some of the others did when they were around him or when they talked to him.

He had taken to hanging out with her on occasion. In his opinion, she was a pretty fun person to be around. While she was usually very serious and cautious, once you got to know her, you also saw that she was also a very energetic and bubbly person. He remembered one time when he'd visited her at her home. They'd somehow started talking about a famous composer and all his great symphonies. Dylas didn't have a keen interest in music but he had liked listening to Margaret as she told him the composer's history and gushed over his magnum opuses.

Margaret had suddenly stopped singing, looking up from her harp. She eyed Dylas, a concerned expression decorating her face.

"Are you alright? You've been staring at me for the last five minutes."

Dylas looked away, embarrassed. He hadn't realized he'd been looking that long. "Y-yeah, I'm fine."

Margaret stood and walked over to him. She leaned towards him, her face only a few inches from his.

_Too close. She's too close._

He shifted in his seat, face turning a bright shade of red. "D-damn, kinda invading my personal space, Margaret. Mind stepping back a bit?"

She made no move to step back. Margaret cocked her head to the side, gazing at him curiously. After a minute, she grinned, satisfied for whatever reason.

"Get some rest," she said solemnly, resting a hand on one of his for only a brief moment. "You're no good to anyone if you're passed out on the floor."

"R-right."

Margaret gave him a parting wave as she left for home. He waved back weakly, muttering an awkward good-bye.

He sighed, forcing himself out of his seat. She'd said to get a good night's rest and he certainly knew he wasn't going to have a decent night's sleep if he passed out at the table.

Dylas felt his hand brush against something, startling him. He looked down and saw a small bundle of carrots set before him along with a carton of milk.

Where had those come from? They hadn't been there a second ago…

He smiled, something he didn't do often. "Jeez, and I'm the shy one…"

He grabbed his gifts, deciding to have a quick snack before going to bed, and stumbled up the stairs to his bedroom, unable to wipe the wide grin that seemed to be stuck to his face.


End file.
